


Well it's the Middle of the Night

by J4r3dW1nch3st3r_D0ct0r_tr4nsb0y



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Eliza is the best, Fluff and Angst, Just an excuse for fluff and Hamilton has nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 21:59:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6725182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/J4r3dW1nch3st3r_D0ct0r_tr4nsb0y/pseuds/J4r3dW1nch3st3r_D0ct0r_tr4nsb0y
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alexander has nightmares.  Burr is a kind soul.  This is literally just angst and fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Well it's the Middle of the Night

**Author's Note:**

> This was once gonna be smut but then it wanted to be fluff.

“Come in, Alexander, it’s the middle of the night. It was a fool’s errand to come here, and it would be even more so to go back, and I would be a poor friend to allow you to attempt it,” the concern in Burr’os voice makes Alexander smile. “Thank you, Aaron.” The smaller man walks into Aaron Burr’s house, and Aaron closes the door behind him. “There’s a guest room, I’ll show you to-” Aaron stops as he notices the look on Alexander’s face. “Why did you really come here in the middle of the night?” The question hangs, unanswered, for a long minute. “Elizabeth didn’t come home tonight, she was at her friend’s house, she’s still there, safe, but… I had a nightmare,” the orphan admits. “Oh.” The sound hangs between the men, Alexander looking small and scared, child-like, and for the first time since Burr had met him, Aaron felt pity for the scrappy young lawyer rising in his chest. Suddenly, Aaron pulls his rival, his friend, into his arms. The hug is unexpected, awkward, and much appreciated by Alexander, who clings to the taller man like a child to his mother.

The two end up in Aaron’s own personal bedroom, mostly because as much as it pained him to admit it, Alexander couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping alone. The two sit on Burr’s bed for a while, and Aaron asks, “Would you like to talk about the nightmare?” Alex smiles at Aaron and replies, “Yes please. It was… I saw my mother dying, and John Laurens, and both of them were screaming my name, but I couldn’t move. Eliza was there too… Burr, someone was…” The young man is stiff, eyes wide and tear-filled, his face horrified at the terror his mind had conjured up. “Oh Alexander, that sounds terri-” “Aaron, it was Jefferson, raping my wife, in my nightmare!” The two are silent for a long moment, Alexander fighting back sobs at the memory, Aaron stunned that this brilliant man’s mind would torture him like that.

When one of them finally is able to speak, it’s Burr. “Alexander, just forget about it, it was a nightmare, it means nothing.” Alexander looks up at him, eyes pleading with Burr for some comfort. Aaron wraps his arms protectively around his friend and whispers, “It’s okay, I’m here, Alexander, nothing is going to happen to Eliza. She’s safe at-” “At Thomas Jefferson’s house because Angellica is staying with him for the week until she leaves for England.” “Oh.” Once again, the sound hangs in the air. This time the silence is broken by a terrified sob. “Let’s walk over there once you’re-” “No, they’re probably asleep, I couldn’t interrupt my wife’s sleep again for a nightmare, especially when she isn’t even in our own bed. It’s different when she’s in our bed, she wakes up anyway when we sleep together.” Burr feels his heart ache; the way he said that, as though he has nightmares often. “How often…?” The question hangs for a long minute as Alexander tries to stop sobbing long enough to answer. “Once a week at least, sometimes every night for a week or more.”

The answer makes Aaron swallow hard. No wonder the man throws himself into his work; his mind tortures him most nights. “And Elizabeth knows this but still didn’t request Thomas escort her-” “She did. He said I would make it a night without her, and implied that it would be damaging to my reputation and hers if he escorted her home at that time of night.” Burr feels sick. “Alexander, we’re going to make sure your wife is okay, so you can be reassured. Thomas’ sleep ought to be disturbed by this, it’s his fault.” Burr starts getting dressed, and Alexander just sits there, like a puppet whose strings had been cut. When Aaron is dressed, he gently washes Hamilton’s face and straightens the forlorn man’s clothes so it doesn’t look too shameful when the poor boy meets his enemy.

At Jefferson’s house, Burr’s angry knock is answered after a minute by a slave. Alexander looks at the man with pity and murmurs, “Could you please wake Thomas and my wife?” The man recognizes the pair and lets them in, racing off up the stairs. In a minute, all 5 are in Thomas’ study, Eliza hugging and kissing her husband gently, soothing the terrified man with whispered promises of fidelity and safety. Thomas glares at the pair, and Burr growls at him, “You idiot! If a woman like Elizabeth is desperate to get home to her husband, a man who is in many ways insufferable, there is obviously a reason.” Eliza apologizes, “That is somewhat my fault, I didn’t want to tell Jefferson about my husband’s problem. I didn’t want to give his political opponent a personal weakness to exploit.” Hamilton murmurs, “It’s okay. Jefferson, despite having slaves, is a man of honor and principle. He wouldn’t abuse the information. Thomas, I suffer from nightmares the likes of which a man like yourself couldn’t imagine. Elizabeth is the only person who can calm me down when I awake in the night.” Jefferson suddenly looks contrite and surprised. “I would never have imagined… I apologize, Alexander, I had no idea-” “It’s okay, Thomas. If you don’t mind, I will take my wife home now,” Alexander interrupts, sounding like a man who hasn’t slept in days. Eliza frowns. “Alexander, you’re in no state to walk all the way home.” Burr offers, “My home has a guest bedroom with a large enough bed for the both of you.” Elizabeth thanks Aaron, and the three walk back to Burr’s house.

“Thank you so much, Burr,” Alex repeats as the three walk, over and over, until Eliza shushes him every time he opens his mouth. Alexander is half asleep, leaning on Eliza, and she asks, “Burr, would you mind helping me support him? The poor dear had nightmares the past 4 nights.” Aaron helps her support her husband and helps her get him to bed. He leaves the two alone so Eliza can undress both of them for sleep. Eliza carefully helps her husband undress, then she undresses herself, laying down with her husband. She strokes his hair and sings softly to him. She cradles his head. He instinctively lays his head on her chest, and she holds him closer. She continues to sing softly. In the next room, Aaron listens and cries softly. Theodosia had once sung to him, when she was dying. He gets up and goes to his daughter’s crib and picks her up. He sings softly to her, cradles her infant form, and a single tear falls onto her blanket. He takes her to his bed and lays her on his chest. He’s unusually still in his sleep, and he sleeps lightly anyway.

In the morning, Alexander seems much less distressed, and Eliza is keeping close to him. Aaron keeps Theodosia jr close, and Eliza coos over the baby, but doesn’t ask to hold the child. She can see that Burr needs the child in his arms. Aaron doesn’t even set her down to eat, he uses one hand. Alexander and Eliza go home after breakfast, thanking Aaron for his kindness both last night and this morning. They stop by Thomas’ house to pick up Philip; Eliza had taken him with her and Angelica had instantly wanted to hold and coo over the boy. Alex thanks Angelica and apologizes to Thomas about last night. Jefferson confesses, “I myself sometimes have nightmares after which I am utterly unable to go back to sleep. You’re lucky to have your dear Elizabeth by your side to soothe you.” Eliza holds Philip for all of a minute before Alexander is plucking the boy from her arms and cradling him. Eliza wouldn’t ask; she knows he doesn’t share certain parts of his nightmares, the parts that scare him the most. Alexander is cooing over the boy, holding him close, and a single tear slips from his eye onto the child’s blanket.

When they get home, Eliza feeds Philip and returns him to his father’s arms. Alexander sits on his and Eliza’s bed, holding the child close, playing with him, and generally just being a father. Eliza watches and knows, whatever he had dreamt last night, it shook him up. “Eliza… I want to tell you the whole story of the nightmare.” The words are quiet, shy, needy. Eliza sits on the bed beside her husband. “Go ahead, dearest Alexander.” He tells her what he had told Aaron last night, and adds, “And then I watched as our boy, our Philip, wasted away of the same illness that claimed my mother.” Eliza is horrified. “My dearest Alexander, why does your mind torment you so?”

The question goes unanswered; neither of them knows the answer. One psychologist said it was the result of all the things that happened to him in his rough life. Alexander only half believes it, Eliza only pretends to believe it for Alexander’s sake. It helped Alexander to blame his sleepless nights on what had happened to him. Eliza secretly believes it is because her dear husband torments himself with his fears and his perceived failings, because late at night, before he wakes with fright, he often murmurs things like, “No, I’m sorry, please, forgive me, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” “I’m sorry” is a common phrase in these tormented moments between sleep and waking. Alexander often begs and pleads for forgiveness for god knows what sins the ambitious man had committed. Eliza privately thinks that if there is a kind god, surely he must forgive a man who begs so much for it, even if the begging is in tormented moments mostly asleep, only awake enough for his mouth to form the words and his voice to speak them. So she often whispers to him when he falls back asleep after she comforts him and cleans the cold sweat off his body. She takes good care of Alexander, especially in these moments.

“Eliza, promise me you’ll protect him from that terrible illness,” Alexander murmurs, pulling Elizabeth out of her thoughts. Alexander continues to play with Philip, and Eliza reflects that Alexander looks very much like a sullen child playing with his baby brother after their mother died. Protective and forlorn. She wraps an arm around him and plays with Philip too, for a moment, but then stops. This is father-son time, not family time. So she sits back and just watches Alexander for the first time in many years. She watches her husband play with and cradle their son, watches as he hugs Philip gently, watches as he lets his son bite his finger. He doesn’t even flinch, just laughs a little. She wonders what pain he must have suffered; the boy may only have tiny teeth, but they hurt like hell when the child bites down, and Eliza often finds herself avoiding the child’s mouth.

She smiles a little as Alex kisses Philip’s forehead tenderly. Her husband is good at everything, except restraining himself. Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door. Alexander shoots her a pleading look; he can’t bear to stop playing with his son. She rises and goes to the door. It’s Aaron with Theodosia. She lets him in and tells him in a hushed tone, “Alexander is playing with Philip, and he needs to keep doing so, he needs Philip right now.” Aaron grins and replies, “I know what you mean. Paternal love is a funny thing.” He looks fondly at the swaddled form in his arms and plays with Theodosia’s outstretched tiny hand. She gurgles happily as her father does so. Eliza smiles and asks, “May I hold her for a moment? Just a moment. And if not, I understand entirely, there are days I won’t let even Angelica touch Philip.” Burr hands the baby to Eliza, who smiles at the tiny human in her arms and coos, “You have a very devoted father, little one.” She hands Theodosia back quickly. Aaron smiles and hugs the baby gently.

The pair walk into Eliza and Alex’s bedroom to find the man passed out with the baby on his chest, sound asleep. Eliza laughs softly. “Like father, like son,” she comments, “Though I hope their energy and intelligence are the only thing they have in common; if Philip inherits his father’s pugnacious spirit, I fear for the boy.” Burr smiles and gently strokes the baby boy’s hair. “He’s beautiful, Eliza,” he murmurs. The woman picks Philip up and holds the sleeping child. Burr murmurs, “I should go. I just wanted to make sure Alexander was okay.” Eliza, of course, replies, “Stay for lunch. I ought to wake him up for lunch anyway.”

When Alexander is awake, he instantly takes Philip back, apologizing to Eliza and greeting Burr warmly. “Thank you again for last night, you were very kind to me.” Eliza grins and goes and starts cooking. The two men sit down on the bed with their children. Both babies are fast asleep, and the men talk in soft voices. They chat about the weather and other things they don’t fight over. Both men hold their children close, protective. Suddenly, Alexander leans against Aaron. “Burr, can I confide in you?” The question is quiet. “Of course you can, Alexander, you’re my friend,” Burr promises. “I am so tired of being pretending to be this arrogant, self-confident man who knows he’s always right. That’s just a facade, Burr. I know I’m nothing, just a bastard orphan, just-” “Alexander. Shut up. You are not nothing, you’re a brilliant man.”

Eliza’s voice startles them both, “I’ve been trying to tell him that for years, Aaron, he just won’t listen to me. Maybe he’ll listen to you.” She walks over and gently strokes Alexander’s hair. “The poor dear is so tormented,” she adds, then presses a gentle kiss to her husband’s temple. Alexander smiles tiredly up at her. “Well, lunch is ready, boys, let’s go eat,” she informs them. The two men stand and, still holding their children, go eat with the best of wives and best of women.


End file.
